


Universal Truths

by minnesotamemelord



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Bullying, Canonical Child Abuse, Drunken Confessions, Episode: s18e11 Great Expectations, Gay Bashing, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr., yikes this got real dark real quick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-13 01:59:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17479079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnesotamemelord/pseuds/minnesotamemelord
Summary: Not gonna lie, this last case hit Carisi a little hard.Well, maybe more than a little.More like crying over law books.Luckily, Barba is a little tipsy and not totally an asshole at the moment.When you combine repressed-childhood Carisi, somewhat-alcoholic Barba, you get an odd series of bonding moments and drunken confessions.





	Universal Truths

"Hey." Carisi greeted Barba the same way he always greeted him.

"Hey." Barba responded the same way he always responded. However, this time, he was in the middle of slipping his jacket on.

"Where're you headed? I thought we were going over the case."

"We are, but an old colleague of mine is in town for the night, and I promised him I'd buy him a drink."

"Ooh, hot date? Have fun, counselor." Barba rolled his eyes.

"Cool it, Carisi. I don't know when you got the idea that we talk about this stuff, but we don't. Also, he's married. Not that it matters."

"Right, right. Well, have fun." Carisi waved goodbye and waited until Barba was out of sight before dropping his coat and briefcase and slumping into one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. The day washed over him like the waves onto the sand at South Beach: cold, heavy, and filled with all kinds of crap. He couldn't remember the last time he'd told somebody about what happened when he was a kid. It wasn't for a long time, at the very least. None of his girlfriends had ever known. Not even his youngest sister knew. He had barely thought about it for years. And now everybody knew, and everybody was going to try to talk to him about his childhood angst. Well, he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t quite regret bringing it up, because he knew it had helped, but he regretted not convincing Rollins that he had made it up. He didn’t like having others worry about him. It worried him, which created an endless cycle of anxiety and touchiness that wouldn’t disappear for years, if ever. He had enough anxiety as it was.

When Barba returned a few hours later, he knew he was late. Of course he was. He'd gotten caught up in conversation and work had slipped his mind. He didn't expect to find Carisi in the office at all, much less in tears over a case file. But that was what he found, and by the time he realized what was happening, he had already shut the door behind him and alerted Carisi to his presence. 

"Sorry. I'll get out of-" Barba started to back out, but Carisi held up a hand to stop him.

"No, no. It's fine. I'm fine." Carisi sniffled, which somehow made it worse.

"You're clearly not fine." But Barba made no move to leave. Instead, he reached for the decanter on the side table and poured a couple of glasses of his good scotch. "Benson told me something happened to you today, but she didn't tell me what. Normally, I wouldn't say anything, but I've had more than a little to drink already, so I'll give you one chance. Either talk to me about it or move on. It's up to you." He held out one glass, which Carisi regarded with a hesitant glare, the tears not quite gone from his icy blue eyes.

"Fine." He reached out and took the glass, expecting Barba to sit down in the chair opposite him, but Barba passed by, sliding onto the floor with a soft grunt, bracing himself against the wall. He glanced up expectantly at Carisi. "What the hell are you doing?" Barba shrugged.

"I find that everything seems a little simpler when you're sitting on the floor. It's one of those things kids know better than adults. You get down here-" he gestured around him, "-and you see a little clearer."

Reluctantly, Carisi lowered himself to the carpet beside him. They both stared straight ahead, sipping their drinks. Finally, Carisi talked.

"I used to play baseball when I was a kid. I was scrawny and weak, but I played anyway, because I loved it. I played second base, which was fine, because I was small, but fast. Nobody on my team gave me too much crap, and everything was fine. But there was this other team. Our 'rivals', as much as you can have a rival in little league. They had this one kid, Bobby Bianchi. He was big for his age, and a year older. One day at a game, I threw him out, and that was the last straw. He cornered me after school the next day and shoved me face-first through a window. Nobody was around, so it was a couple hours before the janitor found me, bleeding on the floor."

"Oh my god." Barba took a long sip from his glass. "If I can ask... how aren't you covered in scars?" Carisi shrugged.

"I was, for a while. All through the rest of school, Bobby and his friends called me Scarface. But after a while, they faded. Not all of them, though." With a sigh, Carisi tipped his head forward and pushed his hair aside, revealing a long, jagged scar that went from just in front of his hairline all the way down the side of his temple.

"Jesus Christ, how do you hide that thing?"

"Creative styling. The hair gel is as much a style choice as a concealing device." Rafael chuckled, but it was hollow.

"So what happened to him?"

"Nothin'. I never told anyone it was him. I quit the team. I shut down for a while. And then I heard a couple years ago, he's serving time in Sing Sing for aggravated manslaughter. If I had said something all those years ago, maybe that wouldn't have happened. But I didn't. And now someone's dead." His voice cracked.

"It's not your fault, Carisi. That sounds stupid and cliche, but it's true. It sounds like that guy is a real dick, to put it mildly, and he deserves everything that's coming to him. And you deserve so much better, Sonny." Despite the tears in his eyes, Carisi smiled. "What?"

"You've never called me Sonny before, you know."

"Oh- Jesus."

"Eh, it's fine. Doesn't mean anything."

"It does mean something. And it means something to me that you told me. 'Cause I get it, I do." Barba sucked in a long, slow breath and let it out shakily. "When I was sixteen, and a sophomore in high school, I had a crush on the junior class president, Danny Da Costa. It was the first time I had fallen in love and it really stuck. We went to a Catholic school, but it was pretty liberal, and Danny was out and proud. I hated football. Like, I really, truly hated it, but I went to every game because Danny was there. I joined debate because Danny was team captain. One thing led to another, and I was making out with Danny under the bleachers at the homecoming game my junior year. We were so caught up that we didn't even realize the game was over. People basically ignored us, until there were just a few people left. Unfortunately, three of those people were alt-right _hijos de putas_ that were not huge fans of Danny, and thus not huge fans of us hooking up right when they were walking out. They surrounded us, and I managed to fend them off long enough for Danny to run. But I was small, so it didn't last long. They beat me to a pulp and left. When I got up and made it back to the school, Danny was waiting for me. He had called my mom, but she didn't pick up. So he took me to the hospital. I had two broken ribs and a broken nose." He shook his head.

"The doctors patched me up and Danny took me home. My parents got there at about three in the morning. They had been at a bar, my dad drinking and my mom trying to get him home. Nothing happened, at first. But about an hour later, my father came into the room. Apparently, someone else had told their parents about Danny and I and then their parents told mine. Without even turning on the light, my father beat the living hell out of me, then left." Barba glanced over at Carisi, who had wide eyes. His hand covered his mouth, and he looked horrified. "My mother came to wake me up later that morning and found me in a pool of my own blood. She took one look at me, and she knew just what had happened. She shoved some of my clothes into a bag, took me to the hospital, and then to my _abuelita's._ I stayed there for two weeks and then I came home. We never talked about it again, and I never told anyone else. Except you."

"I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything. It was a long time ago, and I've moved on. Nobody needs to know. We've both been through hell, Carisi. It's not our experiences that define us. It's how we deal with them."

"You're full of wisdom today, counselor. Are you sure alcohol doesn't improve your sensibilities?"

"Funny, Carisi. I'll miss you when you inevitably move to Brooklyn and take that job in the DA's office."

"That's sweet, but I'm not going anywhere. I've got everything I need right here." Carisi's blue eyes darkened, and his hand found Barba's, squeezing it tightly. "Even though you probably won't remember this in the morning, I appreciate it." With a groan, Carisi stumbled to his feet. "It's late. I should go home. Can I give you a hand up?" He pulled on Barba's arm, stumbling backwards as they collided. " _Buenas noches,_ Counselor."

"Goodnight, Carisi." Carisi hesitated in the doorway.

"You deserve the world, Rafael. Never forget that." With that absurd note, Carisi left, the door slamming behind him.

"You _are_ the world, Sonny." Barba murmured, his fingers tapping the side of the glass. "You're the whole universe."


End file.
